First Strike

by Jack Higgins

  The third hybrid readied Havoc and stopped. "I am Dox," it stated. Havoc defiantly stared into the Hatchling's round orbs. "Who cares?" he responded.

  "What is your name?" Dox asked.

  "You don't get beans out of me," Havoc said.

  "I do not want beans, human," Dox reiterated. "I want your name."

  "Go play with a live grenade," Havoc quipped.

  Dox pointed at the woman. "Do you see her?"

  "Of course."

  "If you don't cooperate," Dox threatened, "I'll rip her eyes out!" The woman cringed.

  Havoc hesitated. Was Dox bluffing? He couldn't afford to find out.

  "What will it be?" Dox questioned. "The information or her eyes? Speak up?" What harm could revealing his name do? "Havoc," he disclosed.

  "Your rank?"

  "Sergeant," Havoc answered.

  "How many others came with you, Sergeant Havoc?" Dox interrogated him.

  "I was alone," Havoc lied.

  "If you insult my intelligence again, the female will suffer," Dox vowed. "Now, how many others came with you?"

  Havoc looked at the Hatchling called Dox. "Thirty-four," he answered with a straight face.

  "And why were you sent?" Dox asked.

  "We heard reports of Raiders in this area," Havoc fibbed. "We were sent to investigate." The Raiders were bands of human scavengers, outlaws who preyed on travelers and small communities in isolated regions. Most of the Raiders operated in eastern California and in the mountains in the south.

  "There are no Raiders in this area," Dox said.

  "That's not what we heard," Havoc declared.

  "You are lying," Dox said. "You came after us."

  "Hell, you freak. I don't even know what you are," Havoc claimed. Dox leaned closer. "Don't ever refer to me as a freak again! Ever!"

  "Touchy, aren't we?" Havoc rejoined.

  The Hatchling raised its two right arms overhead, about to strike.

  "We don't have time for this!" interjected the mutant bearing the front of the limb. "We must warn Father."

  "I agree," concurred the hybrid holding the rear of the branch. Havoc craned his neck to see the third mutant. He recognized his sparring partner with the busted nose.

  "Hi, ugly! Remember me?"

  "I remember you, human," the Hatchling responded, anger in his tone. Dox suddenly jabbed Havoc in the ribs. "Pay attention."

  Havoc grimaced, focusing on the leader.

  "We are going to untie you," Dox detailed. "We can make better time if we don't have to carry you. But be advised. Any attempt to escape, any tricks at all, and the female pays the price. Do you understand?"

  "I understand you, all right, creep," Havoc replied.

  "And if you persist with the insults, I will tear out your tongue," Dox vowed menacingly.

  "Me? Insult little old you?" Havoc taunted. "I wouldn't think of it." Dox nodded at his two companions.

  Havoc was suddenly dumped onto the ground, branch and all. A rock gouged his left shoulder blade and intense agony racked his head "Damn!" he fumed.

  Dox leaned over, smirking. "Ahhhh. I'm sorry. Did we hurt little old you?" He straightened, tittering.

  "Syph. Rhea. Untie this disgusting slug."

  Syph and Rhea bent to their task, and a moment later Havoc was free.

  "On your feet!" Dox barked.

  Havoc slowly rose, rubbing his sore wrists.

  "Remember what I told you," Dox warned. "Any tricks, and the female bears the consequences." Havoc glanced at the woman. "What's your name?"

  "Leslie," she replied. "Leslie Reese."

  "Don't worry, Leslie," Havoc assured her. "We'll get out of this mess in one piece." The three Hatchlings laughed.

  "Human stupidity never ceases to amaze me," Dox commented.

  Havoc wanted to tell Dox where to go, but he held his tongue.

  Dox moved to the head of the line. "There's still an hour of daylight left. We'll ascend the cliffs before dark, and we should be home in a few hours." He looked back. "Havoc, you will walk with the woman. Syph and Rhea will be right behind you."

  "Can I untie Leslie's hands?" Havoc ventured to ask.

  "How touching!" Dox baited the human. "No. Leave her hands tied. If she experiences difficulty scaling the cliffs, help her."

  "What harm can it do to untie her hands?" Havoc said, pressing the issue.

  "Don't argue with me, human!" Dox stated, moving out, bearing to the west.

  "Sorry. I tried," Havoc said to Leslie.

  She mustered a feeble smile.

  Havoc allowed her to proceed first. He used the interlude to get his bearings. They were still in the forest, but the vegetation appeared to be thinning. He glanced over his right shoulder, spying a ridge several hundred yards to their rear. Gazing ahead, he spotted another ridge, this one with towering cliffs comprising its visible side. The crags were steep and formidable, and he couldn't believe the Hatchlings intended to climb those palisades.

  "I'm scared," Leslie confided softly, giving him a fleeting look.

  "Who isn't?" Havoc responded.

  "You don't seem the type to be scared of anything," Leslie said.

  "Looks can be deceiving," Havoc noted.

  'Tin just glad you're here," Leslie stated. "I feel better having you along."

  "That's me," Havoc joked. "A knight in shining armor." They unexpectedly emerged from the trees into the bright light of day. Twenty yards distant, situated at the base of the cuffs, was a pool of blue water 40 yards in diameter.

  Dox led them to the right, walking along the edge of the pool toward a cleft in the rocks. Havoc tilted his head, staring upward. The precipice was at least five hundred feet high, mostly sheer stone. The Hatchlings had to be crazy if they expected to climb the face of the cliffs. Dox reached the cleft and stopped, turning.

  Havoc indicated the rearing palisade with a jerk of his right thumb. "You're not serious."

  "Of course I am," Dox stated.

  "How do you expect us to climb that?" Havoc queried.

  Dox peered upward. "Very carefully," he responded.

  "I'll never make it," Leslie interjected. She took a deep breath, her lower lip trembling.

  "If you make it to the top, you live," Dox said. "If you don't reach the top…" He shrugged.

  "You're not going to force her to climb with her hands tied, are you?" Havoc demanded.

  "I'm not?" Dox rejoined.

  "How can she climb without her hands?" Havoc asked angrily.

  "You will be her hands," Dox said. "You will assist her in scaling the cliffs. I've assisted others before. You can do it."

  Havoc studied the wall of rock leading to the top of the ridge. "What if I blow it? What good is she going to be to the Spider dead?"

  Dox cocked his head, his mouth twitching. "And how would you know about the Spider? You claimed ignorance of our identity?" :

  Havoc realized he had slipped up. Again. "I heard you talking earlier," he hastily explained. "Right before you jumped me."

  "That's possible, I suppose," Dox said. "But somehow I doubt it. I suspect you know a lot more about the Spider than you're letting on. We will find out the truth."

  "You think so, huh?" Havoc couldn't resist countering.

  "I know so," Dox asserted. "Our father will pry the truth from your lips, human." He looked at the cleft.

  "We could go around these cliffs, but we're in a hurry. If neither of you fall, you'll reach the top in half an hour."

  "How? By sprouting wings?" Havoc questioned sarcastically.

  "By walking," Dox stated. "Follow me." He entered the cleft. Havoc smiled encouragement at Leslie and went after Dox, Leslie stayed on his heels. The cleft was surprisingly spacious. Even more fascinating was the narrow ledge slanting upward across the cliffs, starting in the cleft and disappearing above.

  Dox indicated the ledge. "No one knows about this except us. Passage is perilous, but the ledge goes all the way to the top. Just don't look down if you're afr
aid of heights."

  "Why should you care if we live or die?" Havoc inquired.

  "I don't," Dox said. "But my father will be very pleased if you arrive in the Kingdom alive."

  "We'll try not to disappoint your old man," Havoc declared.

  Dox gingerly stepped onto the ledge and began ascending, his four hands dinging to whatever cracks and protuberances were available.

  Havoc frowned as he eased onto the ledge. Portions of the ledge seemed a natural part of the stone, while other sections appeared to have been chiseled out of the rock. The width varied from only six inches in spots to over a foot elsewhere.

  Leslie Reese stayed by Havoc's side.

  "Lean inward," he advised her. "Keep your body as close to the cliff as you can. Don't look down and don't lean back. I'm right here if you need me."

  Leslie nodded.

  The climb was a harrowing experience. Havoc was in a cold sweat before he had gone twenty feet. He clutched at every nook and cranny he found, tentatively placing one foot after the other. The higher he went, the stronger the wind became. He kept his eyes on Leslie, his left hand never straying far from her shoulders. She tucked her chin into her chest and gamely followed him.

  "You're doing fine," Havoc encouraged her every so often.

  Leslie would grin in response.

  Havoc forgot all about the discomfort in his head and the gashes on his body. His total concentration was focused on the arduous task of scaling the cliffs. He lost ail track of time, except for noting the daylight was progressively dimming. The prospect of being caught on the rock wail when night fell was too disturbing to contemplate.

  "Did I mention where I'm from?" Leslie abruptly asked when they were almost halfway to the summit.

  "Don't talk," Havoc advised her.

  "I've got to," Leslie said. "I must do something to take my mind off this nightmare."

  "Where are you from?" Havoc inquired.

  "Weed," Leslie answered.

  "Weed? Is that the name of a town or did you sprout from a seed?" Havoc joked. Leslie shuffled one foot after the other, socking by him. "Weed is a town, silly. Near Mt. Shasta. Haven't you ever heard of it?"

  "Nope," Havoc admitted. A protruding spike of stone forced him to lean out from the wall as he negotiated a thin section of ledge. He paused, gripping her shoulders to brace her. "Be careful." Leslie blanched and gulped. She nervously sidled past the spike.:

  "Not bad," Havoc said. "Maybe you should take up mountain climbing as a hobby."

  "No way," Leslie declared.

  They continued in silence for many minutes.

  "Are you from California?" Leslie inquired at one point.

  "Born and bred," Havoc replied. "Why?"

  "Just asked," Leslie said. "You never heard of Weed."

  "Do you realize how many small towns and communities there are in California? I'm lucky if I've heard of half of them," Havoc stated.

  "You'd like Weed," Leslie commented. "It's quiet and peaceful. Now and then we have mutant trouble, but mostly we go about our business without having to worry about being attacked. There aren't any Raiders in these parts."

  "I'll have to visit Weed some day," Havoc mentioned.

  "I'd like that," Leslie said. "I'll bake you some cookies."

  "Oatmeal?"

  Leslie grinned. "If you like."

  "Oatmeal cookies are my favorite," Havoc explained. "My mom used to bake them when I was a kid. I could smell them in the oven miles off. They were the world's best cookies."

  "Does your mother still make them for you?" Leslie questioned.

  "No," Havoc replied. "My mom died when I was twelve."

  "Sorry to hear that," Leslie commiserated.

  "I try to visit her grave once a year," Havoc said. "She's buried in my hometown."

  "Where's that?"

  "Three Rivers," Havoc disclosed. "In southern California."

  "Never heard of it," Leslie remarked.

  "Are you sure you're from California?" Havoc asked.

  Leslie giggled.

  Havoc felt his confidence building. He began to believe they would reach the pinnacle without mishap, He was wrong.

  There was a scraping noise and a rustling from above.

  Havoc looked up as dust and small stones pelted his shoulders. There was a large crack about four feet above his head. The crack was about eight inches wide and two feet long. Jutting from the lower portion was a profusion of dry sticks, weeds, grass, and bark. A bird nest. He knew a lot of birds constructed their nests in cliffs, talus slopes, and the like. But he doubted the nest was occupied. February was not a normal breeding month, so far as he was aware. But what had caused the dust and stones to fall? He cautiously moved past the crack, then reached for Leslie. "Be careful," he advised. Leslie smiled at him.

  Havoc's left hand was on her right shoulder, steadying her.

  "We're going to make it," Leslie asserted.

  A small mottled gray bird suddenly darted from the crack, its wings flapping furiously, sending a rain of dust and broken bits of nest into Leslie's face. She instinctively drew her head back, her eyes stinging, involuntarily coughing. And slipped.

  Havoc's gut muscles tightened as he felt her start to go. He lunged, clutching the fabric of her tan blouse near her shoulder, trying to restrain her.

  Leslie's terrified blue eyes locked on his as her upper torso tilted over the edge, her left foot sliding from the ledge.

  " No!" Havoc shouted, digging his fingers into the blouse material and tugging. The blouse ripped.

  Havoc's right arm, his hand in a groove in the rock, bulged as he frantically attempted to bear her weight. Leslie Reese screamed as she plummeted from the ledge. Her blouse tore loose from Havoc's grip, and then she was plunging toward the base of the cliffs.

  Havoc, horrified, watched her fall. He saw the pleading look on her face and the O her mouth formed as she screamed. For a hopeful instant he thought she might be safe, might land in the pool at the bottom, but his hope was forlorn. The pool was too far to the left.

  Too far.

  Leslie was still screaming when she smashed onto the boulders below. One moment she was a living, breathing woman; the next she was a pulpy pile of gory flesh and crimson. Havoc was shocked to his core. She had relied on him! Depended on him to see her through! He gaped at her shattered figure, his mind dazed. ,

  "What happened?" demanded a grating voice to his right.

  Havoc didn't bother to turn. "She fell," he said softly.

  "I can see that, you imbecile!" Dox snapped. "Why?"

  "A bird," Havoc mumbled. "A little bird."

  "Our father will not be pleased," Dox stated. "She may have been trash, but we wanted her alive." Havoc twisted, glaring at the Hatchling, his expression grim. He wanted to take hold of the mutant and leap from the edge. He felt he deserved such a fate for failing the woman.

  "No, the Spider will not like this at all," Dox mentioned, peering downward The Spider! The bastard responsible for all of this! Havoc sneered at Dox. If it was the last thing he ever did, he was going to see they paid for their atrocities! "Why are you looking at me like that?" Dox asked in annoyance.

  "Can't you guess, imbecile?" Havoc countered, his tone tainted by his rage.

  "I warned you about your insults," Dox said.

  "What are you going to do about it?" Havoc responded.

  Dox scrutinized the soldier for a moment, then glanced over the ledge. "Nothing. For now."

  "I didn't think so," Havoc said, mocking the hybrid.

  Dox resumed climbing. "But there will be a reckoning, human! You can count on it!" Sergeant Havoc nodded. "I am."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kraft came awake with a start, his arms aching, flat on his back. The heavens were filled with stars and a cool breeze was blowing,

  refreshing him. Close by an owl hooted. He noted the moon had risen. Where the hell was he?

  In a vivid rush of memories he recalled the fight with the Hatchling
s. He

  remembered tackling the mutant behind the log and tumbling to the turf, trying to draw his switchblade from his right pocket. A hard object had slammed into his head and he'd gone down.

  That was it.

  So why was he still alive?

  Kraft went to sit up and discovered his wrists and ankles were tied, his

  hands behind his back. And his guns and backpack were missing! He was a prisoner!

  But where were Blade and the others?

  An inky form materialized before him. "So, human! You are awake!" Kraft

  recognized the hideous outline of a Hatchling. "Are you the one who caught me?"

  "I am Siad," the hybrid stated.

  "Where am I. Where's my blood?" Kraft queried.

  "In your body," Siad said. "You are not bleeding.""

  "Not that kind of blood, Franky," Kraft stated. "I mean my brothers on the Force. Where are they?"

  "How should I know?" Siad replied.

  "I don't get this, man. How come I'm still kicking?" Kraft inquired.

  "Would you prefer to be dead?" Siad rejoined.

  "Cut the crap, jerk!" Kraft snapped. "Come clean."

  "I bathe regularly," Siad said.

  Kraft shook his head. "This ain't for real! This can't be happening!"

  "This is happening," Siad remarked.

  "Where are you taking me, Franky?" Kraft asked.

  "I told you my name is Siad," the hybrid declared. "Why do you persist in calling me Franky?"

  "Can you read?" Kraft questioned.

  Siad didn't respond.

  "Can you read, Franky?" Kraft repeated.

  "Yes, I can read," Siad stated curtly. "Although why bother? All there is to read is human drivel."

  "Well, I can read too," Kraft said proudly. "My dad taught me. You see, I spent most of my childhood and teen years in the Twin Cities. Do you know where that is?"

  "Who cares?" Siad replied.

  "The Twin Cities are in Minnesota," Kraft detailed. "Minneapolis and St. Paul, they were called. They're a wreck now. I was raised there."

  "Of what interest is this babble to me?" Siad asked.

  "You wanted to know why I call you Franky," Kraft reminded the mutant. He was eager to continue the conversation, to buy time while he worked on the rope or whatever bound his wrists.

  "I'm sorry I asked," Siad quipped.